The Estranged Couple
by paperspiral
Summary: Sabretooth/OC. Sabretooth comes to find out what his estranged wife has been up to since moving out. While my Victor/Emma stories don't usually proceed on a timeline, if you want to read them in written order this is story 1.
1. Chapter 1

Marvel owns the rights to Sabretooth, the rest are of my own creation.

Reviews and constructive criticisms welcome.

She sat at the small kitchen-turned-dining table laden with silverware and a candle and watched as the clock made its slow march to the hour. She drank deeply from her glass of Cabernet Sauvignon and sighed internally.

When he had called earlier in the week to announce that he would be in town on business and that they should have dinner, they agreed on 7 o'clock. Knowing that Victor had a penchant for being late, and thus the decision to eat at her place instead of a restaurant, she began to prepare the meal at eight.

By nine, she had kicked off her heels, and by ten, she had finished her own portion and began her second glass of wine. She was tired and had to work in the morning.

The clock chimed 11 and Emma rose to clear the dishes and blow out the candles. She swept his cold and dried out steak into the garbage, put the dishes into the dishwasher, slipped her heels back on and lugged the garbage bag out and down the hall to the chute.

As the chute door snapped shut hungrily over the scraps, the elevator doors announced an arrival on her floor and hissed open. She walked around the soft corner to find his tall, brute frame standing there in a dark suit which three hours ago, would have looked clean and pressed and fresh, but now looked wrinkled and torn. A large boot print in dirt shining on the back of the jacket and bright red blood, not yet tacky, oozed from an already healed scalp wound.

He gave her a quizzical look at her appearance in the hallway when her flat was in the opposite direction. In answer to the question that wasn't asked, Emma hitched her thumb behind her towards the garbage chute and replied, "I was just throwing out your dinner."

Victor raised a trampled bouquet of hybrid lilies the colour of a sunset and grumpily said, "I'm late."

"You're late." She echoed. They stood another minute awkwardly staring at each other until she stepped forward and led him back to her condo.


	2. Chapter 2

Marvel owns the rights to Sabretooth, the rest are of my own creation.

Reviews and constructive criticisms welcome.

The smell of acrid smoke from the extinguished candles still permeated the air as she shut and locked the door behind him. Victor offered her the flowers and rested against the back of the couch to untied his shoe laces.

Emma walked over to the sink and fished out a vase from on top of her refrigerator, then began picking through the crushed blooms for those that still lived before sitting them out on the cleared table.

"There should be some leftover pizza in the fridge." She took his coat and began beating the shoe prints off of it, much to Creed's irritation.

"Cut that out already." He ignored her offer of pizza and instead gave the place a once over. "Well this is….small." She could tell he was trying to repress the amount of disgust in his voice to spare her feelings but it only made her feel better about his steak rotting in the dumpster 18 floor below them in the alley.

"Well, it's enough for me right now." Emma tossed his coat aside on to the couch and approached him. "What is it?"

To say that Victor and Emma were estranged was an understatement. These days they were simply strangers. She had not lived in his house for the last seven months, abandoning Birdy, the large library she enjoyed, and what could have been the most fatal – him.

There was little discussion on the matter, as he was rarely home. Emma approached him one day in his study as he sorted through business requests his assistant Birdy had left in a neat pile for him. He growled a bit as she proposed her plan to live away from him for a while, but he did not argue. They had a rule between them, only one; _she was not his plaything, and he was not her pet._

The next morning she had found a stack of crisp bills laying begrudgingly on her nightstand and Victor gone sometime in the night, his side of the bed cold and the usual gnaw of disappointment in her stomach.

Creed's eyes continued to breeze around her space and her things. "Nothin'," he paused, "Place smells like you is all. It's nice." He shifted uncomfortably, not liking the intimacy between them. By instinct, Emma reached out and laid a hand on his chest with a gentle smile. "I need a smoke." Victor backed away and roughly unlatched the balcony doors into the crisp Montreal night. He teased a cigarette and lighter from his trouser pocket and lit up, leaning against the metal guardrail with his forearms.

"How was business?" She grabbed a cardigan from the back of an armchair in the living room and joined him out on the balcony, out of the way of his smoke.

"Fine." He grunted.

"How are things back home?" She prodded on purpose. They needed something to fill the gap of silence and uncomfortable air between.

"Fine! Things are fine." Victor barked and tried to calm down as to not spoil the evening.

A moment passed.

"Do you—"

"Would ya quit it with the twenty questions?" The snarl ripped through the night sky and disturbed some birds cooing nearby. Emma raised her hands in defeat and settled against the rail beside him. Creed reached out and pulled her closer as way of an apology.

They both watched the traffic below, still busy at such an hour on a Tuesday night. Noises that he could hear yet she could not caught his attention elsewhere for a while until she pulled away from him and their green eyes met.

"I'm exhausted and I have to get up early tomorrow." She tucked some loose strands of black hair caught by the wind behind her ear.

"Ah, yer paper-pushin' job." He criticized, turning his eyes back out onto the nightscape.

"There's a towel for you if you'd like to take a shower." Emma ignored his remark and stepped back inside. Victor flicked the cigarette butt out into the night, hoping it would hit a stupid pigeon in the head as it landed somewhere, then followed her in with a soft click as he shut the balcony door.


	3. Chapter 3

Marvel owns the rights to Sabretooth, the rest are of my own creation.

Reviews and constructive criticisms welcome.

Emma was under the covers by the time the shower turned off and Victor stepped out of the bathroom. He led a trail of water droplets back to her bedroom as he toweled off his shaggy blond hair. A disapproving grunt escaped him when he saw the size of the bed.

"How long are you in town for?" Came a question around a yawn. Creed dropped the towel in a heap and lifted the covers. She was in her pajamas. He climbed in on the right side of the bed before responding.

"I'm flyin' out tomorrow." He felt cramped beside her so he turned on his side, facing her back, curled away from him.

"Hmm." Was all the response he was to receive. Victor curled his claws under the waist band of her pajama bottoms and dragged them down her thighs which she neither resisted nor encouraged. His hand slithered up to rest on her abdomen; it was tight, tighter than when they last saw each other.

"What's his name?" He growled softly.

"There is no him." Emma sighed and adjusted her position. "Unlike a certain someone, I live by the oath of body and soul I promised you when we were married."

The jab at his infidelity rolled off of him like the water from his shower. He took a quick sniff of the air and listened to the steady beating of her heart and knew she didn't lie. He drummed his fingertips on her stomach, softly touching claw tips to her skin without breaking it.

"When are ya comin' home?" He breathed into her ear. A moment. "I mean, I want ya…t'come home now." There was a mumble of being missed that she barely caught.

Emma was of two minds; she was tired on the verge of bitchy and being asked to return to her life of waiting for him to come home, waiting on him while he was home, did not sit well with her. But his attentions, which were unusually gentle and affectionate, made her crave the intimacy of their life together.

Time stretched out slowly between Creed's request and Emma's response. He had stopped drumming his fingers in anticipation, his nerves tights. When he realized his apprehension he forced himself to relax.

"Maybe."

A feeling he had not experienced in a very long time overcame him. It really did feel like the pit of his stomach had dropped out. It took a few minutes for him to place it as being not so much disappointed, but…hurt. He was sitting up roughly at that point, nearly knocking her out of her own bed.

"Whaddya mean '_maybe_'?" He leaned over her, unfurling his clawed right hand and a snarl on his lips. "I'm not good enough anymore? I put up with this shit of you movin' out pretty damn well, dontcha think? Ya don't leave 'til _I_ say so!"

Emma outright slapped him across the face. Still as young looking as the first day they met nearly 60 years ago, she was a strange creature. He had never really gotten a straight answer from her on her mutant abilities but a flicker of a healing factor was definitely present. She had some remarkable talents that she didn't use nearly often enough but getting in a slap was not one of them. "Settle down."

He hovered over her prone body domineeringly, claws cutting into the sheets and mattress underneath, waiting with as much patience as he possessed in a situation such as this, for her to elaborate.

"I only meant, I don't know if I'm ready to come back yet." Calm with a lingering irritation washed over him.

"So you'd rather stay here in this cramped, lonely apartment, doin' paperwork for some jerk who's busy tryin' t'get inta yer pants – than t'come back with me?"

"Versus staying in a giant, lonely mansion, doing paperwork for some jerk who's busy trying to get into my pants?" She smirked. Creed laughed at that briefly but loudly. "Work is keeping me busy right now."

"I don't care. My patience is wearin' thin with you traipsin' around on the other side o' the country." He still hovered over her, his claws ever-present. He played gently with her hair, the threat of violence still heavy in the air.

"You don't own me." Emma breathed then swallowed roughly. Creed glared at her while twirling the ends of her hair around his right index finger. He pulled it taught and then let it unfurl to the mattress.

He leaned in then, his face over hers and replied, "I think I do."

She turned her face away from him and pushed at his chest, though he barely budged. "Victor, get off of me!" He wrapped his hands over her wrists and pulled her arms behind her, rolling her onto her left side facing the wall.

"I love it when you squirm." He laughed. Emma went limp, ruining his fun and ultimately getting him to release her wrists.

"You seem to want me back so bad, yet you do things that make me hate you. Funny, don't you think?" She grabbed up the covers and continued to face away from him. After a moment, Creed turned himself over to face the other way, and rested his head on the pillow. There would be little sleep tonight.


	4. Chapter 4

Marvel owns the rights to Sabretooth, all others are of my creation.

Reviews and constructive criticism welcome.

The alarm went off at 6:00am. She had not slept well the night before. Thankfully it helped that she needed to look as disheveled as she felt. Emma shimmied into a pair of nude thigh high stockings and adjusted the clasp on her bra. A brown paisley blouse and brown knee skirt that zipped up the back was grabbed from a hanger in her closet. It took her five minutes to find the left mate of a hideous pair of chunky, low-heeled brown shoes.

In front of the mirror she straightened out her eyebrows, tidied her hair into a loose, low bun then pulled out a few dirty strands. She applied some lip balm and fished out a set of black horn-rimmed glasses. She could not look any plainer.

Creed sat at the breakfast table grumpily from a poor night's sleep and the lack of sex between the two of them, which to him, had been most of the point in stopping by. He looked up from a French magazine he was flipping through only when Emma appeared beside him to fill his coffee cup. There was still a tension between them from his toeing the line of _the rule_ last night.

"What the hell are you wearin'?" He grunted.

"When is your flight?" She negated.

"Two-somethin', and I gotta swing by th' hotel before checkout. I'm not sure I wanna share a cab with you lookin' like that though." Victor took another sip of coffee. It reminded him only that she still couldn't make a cuppa to save her life.

"I'll take the Metro then." Orange juice was poured into her favourite cup and she joined him at the table, casting her gaze low to avoid his stare.

"You're a bitch." He said plainly after a minute of staring at her. "You're up to somethin' that you're not tellin' me."

Emma shot a glare at him then over her cup but didn't respond to his outburst. Instead, "I need to get going soon. Shall we head down?"

They had a quick discussion in the street while trying to hail a cab as to who should be dropped off first. The decision was that Emma's stop was closer and she needed to be in by seven so she would be dropped off first and Victor would cover the bill.

Satisfied, Creed held the door open for her as she scooted to the far side of the cab's back seat. The car lowered significantly once he sat down and shut the door.

They weren't even a block out when he dragged her skirt up and put his hand on her upper thigh, fiddling with the lace stocking edges. Emma let his hand linger there until she felt his pinky flick along the crotch of her panties. "_Victor!_" She hissed quietly but he only grinned fiercely at her.

"You owe me."

"Yeah? Well maybe if you were on time and less of an ass... _Monsieur? Juste ici s'il vous-plait_." The cab pulled over and stole a spot that had just been freed up from a delivery truck leaving. "I guess I'll see you in another seven months then?" She opened her door and yanked her skirt down to her knees.

"Guess so. See ya doll." She paused for only a second to see if he would say more or take her hand for a kiss at the least, but it was evident that he was finished with her. The door slammed shut and she walked up the concrete steps to a high rise office building without turning to watch the car pull away.


	5. Chapter 5

Marvel owns the rights to Sabretooth, all others are of my creation.

Reviews and constructive criticism welcome.

Creed handed the driver a fifty, not out of generosity but out of simplicity. He ignored the man's requests to wait while he searched for change and slammed the door behind him as he stepped away from the curb.

A doorman tipped his cap while holding the hotel's door wide. Victor could sense the man appraising the trampled suit he wore from yesterday. A clerk waved from behind the desk as he walked through the entrance.

"_Monsieur Creed? Monsieur Creed,_ you have a fax." The gentile brunette smiled politely and handed him an envelope and wished him a good day. Creed grunted in response and made his way to the elevators where one was ready to receive him.

Victor used a claw to slice the envelope open and pulled the fax free. The couple who shared the elevator with him watched out of the corner of their eyes anxiously. He ignored them and read the note attached to the documents, written in Birdy's ridiculously cursive hand writing.

_Mr. Creed,_

_I hope you're enjoying Montreal and I also hope you've passed on my message to Emma – have you convinced her to return home yet?_

_I thought I would forward on another business request as you are already in town and it seemed rather straight forward. I can adjust your flight and hotel as required if you will call and let me know of your plans. _

_I will meet you at the gate when you fly in._

_Birdy_

Creed crumpled the message, only having skimmed it for the necessary details. Boy did she know how to turn a sentence into a novel. The doors to the elevator slide open with ease and he disembarked, leaving the couple to relax on their way up the next few floors.

His door still adorned the _Do Not Disturb_ sign he hung on the knob the day before, and his bed was still a nest of blankets strewn about. Victor picked up the phone and dialed home.

ooooo

Emma tromped down the hall in her clunky shoes, a mass of papers in her arms, trying to catch up with a well-dressed man heading towards his office rather swiftly. She pushed her glasses up her nose and called after him loudly in a rather out-of-breath plaintive way.

"Mr. Landon, sir, please!" He halted in order for her to catch up. "Hi, hey, sorry." Emma caught up and caught some breath. "Mr. Landon, I just have some paperwork for you to sign, super quick, I promise."

"Who…where's Janice?" Landon eyed her irritably.

"Janice? I don't know, sir. I'm just from the secretarial pool, they told me to work up here today. I guess she's sick?" Emma tried to sort through the wild pile of paper in her arms that threatened to spill to the floor if she didn't get it under control. "Just, um, sign where the sticky notes are."

He took the burden of half of her pile, paperclips catching on each other and the paperwork began to get muddled with each other. "Give it here, Christ." He took the papers she tried to organize and tapped them on Janice's vacant desk outside his office door. He disentangled them from each other then patted himself down for a pen.

"Oh. Oh! Here, I have a pen, sir." Emma fished one out of her blouse pocket, pointed it towards him and clicked the end.

It happened quicker than the blink of an eye. They were both covered in his blood and he was dead before his head hit the ground, shrapnel blasting through his heart, effectively ceasing his existence.

Emma blinked once. Twice. Then started screaming bloody murder.

ooooo

"Four days." Creed grunted while he undid his tie and threw it to the ground. "No, four days is plenty." The phone was jammed between his left ear and his shoulder while he undid his belt and dropped his pants. "Birdy, what are you playin' at?"

There was silence as he listened to his assistant on the other end of the line back in Vancouver. He sighed as he unbuttoned his shirt and ripped off his socks. "No, I didn't pass that along to her. We didn't talk much." A beat of silence. "Yes." He muttered in response to her inquires of whether he had been late to dinner with Emma.

"That makes no _sense!_ If ya can push my return flight home by a week, ya can push it back to four days!" Birdy's plot to have Emma return home was not to be borne by him. He hung up the phone irritably and then crawled into the mass of sheets his bed had become to try and garner some more sleep before he had to head back out.

ooooo

The police had come and were quieting her down now but she was absolutely no help to them as they closed the scene. A younger officer had come and took her by the arms to the elevators, trying to move her out of the environment and be able to debrief her or get some details of what had happened.

The coroner had yet to arrive and pronounce Mr. Landon dead, but his eyes staring off down the hall said enough. Emma followed along quietly like a sheep, clutching a blanket that was thrown over her only a few minutes ago. The officer, Millione, had a wet nap and asked her permission to wipe away some of the blood spray that was on her face.

She looked at him shakily but didn't say a peep. He was gentle and calm and quiet. His manners suited his tall, lithe body well. As the elevator brought them to the ground floor, he escorted her outside where the crowd of employees had gathered after the fire alarm had been pulled. Millione left her aside while a senior officer grabbed him for information.

She let the crowd slowly engulf her until there was nothing left except the blanket on the concrete sidewalk.


	6. Chapter 6

Marvel owns the rights to Sabretooth, all other creations are mine.

Reviews and constructive criticism welcome

Emma removed the hideous yet comfortable brown shoes outside her condo door before entering. They found their way back into the depths of her closet while she placed the silver pen on her bed side table for cleaning later. The blouse and skirt she had worn were ruined with blood and she had little choice but to either throw them out or burn them now.

But first, she really needed a shower.

Had she really been an employee of Harris, Landon & Associates, they would have found her personnel file, and had she left an actual phone number with her papers, her phone would have been ringing off the hook as to her whereabouts and her fleeing the scene. Neither were true so her long, hot shower was completely uninterrupted.

The smell of her bamboo scented body wash made her smile as she sudded up the bath poof and used it to wash away the dried blood flecks on her skin. She hummed a little tune to herself and added shampoo to her hair, the bathroom door wide open so that she wouldn't feel too stifled with the steam.

Slowly the shower winded down and she grabbed a towel from the rack across the bathroom. She stepped onto the yellow shag rug outside the stall and curled her toes into it with a sigh of happiness.

Back to her closet, Emma found a nice spring dress and draped it over the bed spread while she went to get her body lotion. The flashing light on her answering machine caught her eye. One missed message. Biting her lip in hesitation, she quickly pressed the button to listen to the message.

"_Emma,"_ It was Victor and he sounded as cranky as ever. _"I'm stuck in town a bit longer than I thought. I'll be by around seven to get what you owe me. Maybe we'll grab dinner too."_ Short, sweet, crude.

Changing her mind, Emma put her dress away and picked out a pair of jeans and a sloppy t-shirt, threw her hair up in a clip on her head and started to clean the apartment. Maybe the ammonia smell will keep him at bay, she thought.

This was a habit borne out of frustration, anxiety, and anger. Whenever Victor failed to show up for a date, went missing for days or weeks, demeaned her, broke her heart, she would pick up a rag and scrub something. To say the least, their overly large home was spotless, their marriage rocky.

By a quarter after three, everything was as clean as it was going to get. Emma stuffed her soiled clothes into the same garbage back as the spoiled food from her fridge and she was on her way to the chute when she ran into Creed, who had taken the stairs.

"We need to stop meetin' like this." He grinned. His senses focused for a minute, picking up something, then relaxed and watched her as she threw the bag out down the chute.

"You're uncommonly early." Emma huffed irritably. Crossing her arms she glared at him waiting for a response.

"I thought I'd surprise ya."

"By hiding out in my apartment until I got home? That's less surprising and more creepy. Are you sure you're not here to snoop?" Emma strode past him and back to her door.

"Not anymore. What're ya doin' home so early anyway?" Creed moved into her entrance and was slightly offended by the odour. He made sure to swing open the balcony doors and stand in front of them.

"There was a –"

"A shootin', yeah, I heard."

"What do you want Victor?" Emma slammed the cupboard door closed after putting away the cleaning solvents. She straightened and began washing her hands in the kitchen sink.

"Birdy says somethin' along th' lines of 'come home, please come home, oh my god, come home." He shrugged as though he had no idea what she was talking about. Emma felt slightly guilty but was still unmoved.

"What keeps you in town?" They were both leaning now, she against the kitchen counter drying her hands on a towel, and he against the balcony door frame with his hands in the pockets of his black slacks.

Birds chirped happily in the sunshine outside the window, a siren could be heard below. The wind ruffled some papers on Emma's coffee table and she yearned for him to reply, "You". Creed remained silent.

ooooo

Victor could be gentle, much like he was now. Quiet and slow. Methodical in his teasing and torturing of her body with his tongue and fingers. He could also be savage and far beyond rough, where he would draw blood and leave scars that took forever to heal along her back, thighs and stomach. Biting and bullying. Emma enjoyed him somewhere in between.

He had her whimpering in his ear, waiting achingly for release as he withdrew his fingers. Victor lapped at her neck, moving slowly down her chest and stomach. He had a hand on her inner knee and forced her legs wide.

His need was starting to overtake his patience and Victor began to get rougher with her. Emma only made a few plaintive noises as he entered her, but then grabbed him around the neck and pulled him down on her, raking her nails along his shoulders.

There was a shudder between them and she cried out in disappointment when his thrusting ceased and she had not reached orgasm. There was a look of disbelief on her face as Victor pulled out and relaxed over the bed, sheets bunched and pulled from their neatened state. He reached down to pick up her panties and tossed them to her.

"Why dontcha clean up and I'll take ya out to dinner?" He yawned, pointedly ignoring her displeasure. Emma didn't move but instead glared at him. Creed finally turned to her and snaked his hand up her damp thigh. His fingers began stroking and prodding again as she melted against him. "I'm so sorry," he feigned, "I completely forgot my manners."

Emma leaned into his body, hard and lean, and stole the breath from his lips in a kiss. He could smell her arousal mounting as she hooked her left leg over his hip and pulled him closer, trapping his right arm between them. "Don't," she breathed heavily, "stop." He obliged her until she bit into his neck and trembled from her release.

Both exhaled loudly and found themselves wrapped in each other's arms for a moment of peace.

"I love you." Emma said quietly.


	7. Chapter 7

Marvel owns the rights to Sabretooth, all others are my creation.

Reviews and constructive criticism welcome.

Creed had picked up on the smell of gun oil that pricked the air of her bedroom since his first visit to her place. It was certainly not a smell he associated with his wife. Nor was the scent of recently fired gun powder emanating from the silver pen resting on her night stand only inches out of his reach.

Emma was taking another shower. She might say she loved him, but she sure hated smelling of him after sex. Emma claimed she was washing away the sweat, wetness, and often, blood, but Victor knew better. It was the same reason she started taking birth control in the seventies, deep down, she was disgusted by him. Once, only a handful of months before she had left, Creed confronted her about it as she slipped out of bed in the dead of night after a particularly rough session.

"I'm sorry you find my desire to be clean a bit neurotic." Emma snapped over her shoulder as his claw marks slowly closed up across her back and down her bottom. She shut and locked the bathroom door behind her.

Creed was stirred from his memories as Emma, fresh as a light breeze with her black hair wet and trailing down her breasts, wandered back into the bedroom where she had left him moments earlier. He rolled over on his side and picked up the pen to look at it closer.

"Where'd you get this trinket?" He watched her move over to him and firmly grasp the pen, but he wouldn't let go. He watched her think for a moment, not letting her grip on the pen falter but not pulling it away from him. Emma tilted her head and then smiled.

"I believe you gave this to me, a souvenir from one of your business trips to Israel?" She eased herself into his lap, pressing her damp, naked body into him. Victor let go of the pen then and allowed the moment of affection to linger softly as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Frail?" He spoke into her hair, needing her to hear him, but detesting what he was about to say.

"I hate it when you call me that." She murmured as a reminder, not as an interruption.

"Yer up to no good, the whole apartment reeks of it." Victor paused to collect himself. "I don't know what I'd do if somethin' were t'happen to you." He breathed her in.

"Victor, I think that's possibly the sweetest thing you've ever said to me." He groaned and tossed her across the double bed as she laughed in delight at him.

"Don't get used to it." He grunted and got up to look for his clothes.

After she stopped grinning at him, she watched his strong body reach and bend in the low sunlight. Emma loved his forearms, his abs just below his navel, his broad, solid shoulders. She didn't tell him these things anymore, he never seemed to respond, only frown at her as though she were a silly girl loving a hideous ashtray made of clay by her seven year old.

"Aren't you going to take a shower?" She sat up.

ooooooo

Victor had not taken a shower. He took another bite out of his overdone hamburger, ignoring the glances and outright stares in the restaurant as they ate dinner. Putting down half of what was his second hamburger and licking the mustard off his right middle finger, Creed cleared his throat and watched Emma dip a fry into house sauce then make two bites of it. She caught him watching her and went for another fry.

"You're creeping me out again."

"Yeah, I do that." He reached for her french fries and grabbed three. "I got more business in town." Finally answering the question she had asked hours ago.

Emma looked up and scrunched her face up in puzzlement. "That doesn't happen often, two job offers in the same place so soon."

"Always someone needin' killin', doll." Victor picked up his hamburger again and took a bite.

It was a bit strange to be fair, Creed only took on the most important _clients_, screened through Birdy herself. He chewed thoughtfully both on his dinner and on that tidbit of information. His chewing slowed, he swallowed. Anger began filling inside him but he waved away her questions irritably.

Dinner was over.

oooooooo

"_Are ya tryin' t'play me, Birdy?_" Anyone on his floor would be able to hear him yelling into the phone at his assistant. Emma worked around him to make the hotel bed he wouldn't let housekeeping clean.

"Mr. Creed?" Birdy said helplessly on the other end, not understanding what was happening. In fact at this point, only Victor knew why he was so angry.

"Ya doctor up some yuppie for me ta hit all so's I'll stay in town longer!" His speech was beginning to dip back into poor English, more so than usual, and spittle was flying. "Whaddya think I am? _Stupid?_!" There was half a moment of silence. "BIRDY!"

"No! I – it's just I don't know what you're talking about! It's real! The contract is real!" Her voice was rising to the point where it hurt his ears. This typically meant she was telling the truth but could do nothing to prove it and was afraid he would strike her.

Emma was fluffing his pillows now, frowning at him and his behaviour. _Fuck her,_ he thought. "Stop it or I'll smack that look right off yer face." He growled lowly, moving the receiver away from his face. Birdy continued to yap in his ear about details of the contract he didn't care about, and which meant nothing to him. He was confused but refused to admit the coincidence that Emma pointed out over dinner.

"Birdy, if I find out you duped me, I'm gonna rip yer heart out and shove it up yer—"

"Victor!" Emma threw the pillow at him angrily. Creed slammed the phone down where it clattered in the cradle. He grabbed a handful of sheets and ripped them off the bed into a heap across the room, destroying Emma's attempts at tidying his space.

"I'm leaving." She snapped up her purse and walked confidently to the door of his hotel room. It closed with a heavy thud and he listened to her walk to the elevators before kicking the bed across the room.


	8. Chapter 8

Marvel owns the rights to Sabretooth, all others are my creation.

Reviews and constructive criticism welcome.

How can a marriage be so strained and actually survive? How could they have been embraced in a sweet moment only two hours earlier and part frustrated with each other? Emma was lucky she wasn't driving so wrapped up in her own thoughts as she was, her face hard with anger, scaring everyone away from sitting next to her on the Metro as she made her way home. _The big, dumb brute,_ she thought vehemently, _stupid, condescending, asshole!_ Emma was tired of it, tired of having her evenings ruined. Why couldn't they just have a normal relationship?

_Why do we still have a relationship?_ She knew why. They were both old. They were comfortable, familiar, used to each other. There was no courting that needed to be done, no hiding who they were, no shame or embarrassment. _All a terrible reason to keep beating a dead horse as it were._

She also knew that if she ever bothered to file for divorce, he would hunt her down, he wouldn't let her leave him. He wouldn't let her get away. This thought irritated her more than scared her. The lack of fear told her she wasn't ready to leave him anyway and she was back at the beginning of her argument. Comfort.

Emma's stop came up and she walked slowly up to ground level and past the newspaper stand by the grocer on the corner of her street. Entering her code and turning her building key in the lock, she entered the foyer and jabbed the button to call the elevator. A memory came to her of a happier time between them. Victor was laughing in a carefree way, she couldn't remember the situation, only his expression of contentment. This was a very long time ago, before Weapon X – which she knew very little about, only that he was a different person now.

A group of young French men departed the elevator as it landed on the ground floor. A few greeted her but she didn't know any of them. She had the elevator all to herself as it brought her to her floor.

Her key clicked softly in the lock and she entered her darken apartment, tossing her bag aside and removing her shoes. She grabbed a rag from deep within the front closet and went to the bedroom. There lay the silver pen Victor had given to her. He had thought it was neat how it was rigged to shoot thin little bits of shrapnel but had never thought she would or could actually use it. Emma picked it up, sat cross legged on the floor and pulled out the drawer from under her bed frame, attached to the bed frame. It rolled out noiselessly, glass plating protecting the contents, all of which lethal. She unlocked the key code and pushed the glass back just enough to retrieve what she needed to clean the pen and keep it in working order.

She meditated some more as she carefully pulled the weapon apart, placing each piece within reach and in order. Someone quietly stopped in front of her door and a soft knock echoed through her open living room at the same moment a ping sounded from her computer alerting her that she had a priority message in her email inbox.

The knock came again, soft as before and low on the door. Emma picked up one of her short barreled glocks with the custom inlayed handle, a frivolity only a girl who liked to accessorize would appreciate. It was white with black scrolling while its mate had a handle of black with white scrolling. She checked the magazine and chambered a round before getting up to answer the door.

"Yes?" She replied to a third knock. She knew it was him, but what he wanted was a mystery.

"Let me in." Creed scratched at the door softly. Emma unlocked the deadbolt and cleared the chamber. "Ya gonna blow my head off?" Victor's green eyes appeared as he opened her door. He lowered a small suitcase beside the couch but kept his runners on this time.

Emma didn't respond but instead returned to her room and resumed cleaning her pen. He followed, now changed into jeans and a black t-shirt. No watch. He never wore a watch. "Li'l girly, dontcha think?" He motioned to her glocks now sitting out in their holsters on the bed.

"I was going to get pink ones with posies on them." Emma scrubbed at an invisible spot on the silver finish unnecessarily. The damn thing was clean. "Why are you back here?" Giving up, she put the pen back into the drawer along with the cleaning supplies, replaced the glass and armed the code lock. She pushed the drawer closed and stood up.

"Birdy called off my business meetin' for me, flyin' home in a couple o' hours. Came to say 'bye." Creed reached out and flicked a piece of her hair out of her eyes. Realising quickly she had now shut him out and would not be receptive of his desire for her to return home with him, he straightened up and walled up the rest of his feelings back inside his chest. "I'll let myself out then."

"I'll walk you down." Emma gave in. She put on her holster, her guns tucked neatly under her arms, and then pulled a jacket from the back of her living room chair as they made their way to the door. Creed gave her a strange look. "I'm not leaving them out in the open." She pulled her hair out of the jacket then picked up her keys as he held the door open for her.

A strange whizzing noise caught both of their attention but only Creed reacted to the danger. He grabbed her upper arm and nearly dislocated her shoulder as he pulled her down the hallway as something massive hit the building roughly where her flat had been. A vicious fire rolled out from her open door and consumed the hallway greedily. Alarms were going off and people were shouting in confusion. Two or three waited by the bank of elevators, a fourth pressing the call button repeatedly, not registering that in the event of a fire, or in this case, a missile induced explosion, the elevators would not work.

Creed flew down the 18 flights of stairs, dragging her along whether she wanted him to or not. Love sparked inside her again as she realized he was protecting her. It was astounding how slowly and reticently people exited the building, many thinking it was only a false alarm until they exited the building on to the street and watched what was left of Emma's apartment, and the eight other surrounding apartments spew flaming debris on to the traffic below.

"What just happened?" Emma stood agape among the crowd looking up.

"Just keep walkin'." Victor advised and was rewarded in his assumptions when a burst of gunfire broke out in the crowd. Chaos is the only appropriate term that came to her mind as people started running in all directions, scurrying out of the way, not knowing what to do or where to go. The cries of fear were even worse than the confusion.

The crowd broke and she could see a group of maybe seven or more armed and costumed people aiming towards them. Emma understood then that she had only been a casualty, they were here for her husband. Her handguns were suddenly in her hands by instinct. The metal was warming up from her touch and she felt her heart beat heavy in her chest in anticipation. Creed stood possessively in front of her, blocking her from them.

"Run." He urged her without turning to look.

Two clicks came as Emma removed the safety on each weapon. "No." Her response was firm and gave him confidence that she would handle her own. There was no time to argue regardless, he only hoped her healing factor was stronger than he thought.


	9. Chapter 9

Marvel owns the rights to Sabretooth, all others are my creation.

Reviews and constructive criticism welcome.

"These clowns." Creed muttered under his breath.

"You _know_ these guys?" Emma snapped at him.

"Why d'ya think I was late for dinner?" He glared at her over his left shoulder, his green irises disappearing into white as his fighting instincts kicked in and his feral mutant abilities took over. Emma did not reply with "because you're an ass."

A large piece of siding crashed down in front of them, the smell of plastic on fire burning their noses. A bullet whizzed past Creed's right cheek leaving a sharp ringing noise in his ear canal and momentarily disorienting him. He felt Emma wrap her arm around him from behind and she knocked off a few retaliation rounds but with the flaming debris in their path burning their eyes, it was harder to locate a target.

Creed inhaled deeply, discarding the smell of fire, of Emma and her weapons, of fear and panic from the crowd. He picked out tension, anxiety, and gun metal then coupled it with the sound of purposeful rushing and realized they were surrounded. He heard Emma's heart beat a quick tango and her breathing deepened and it reminded him of sex.

There was a lot of gunfire during the next few moments. Emma was silent and grim with Victor at her back. She made a little headway but he was taking more damage than giving since their assailants kept their distance and Creed was more concerned with protecting her. Finally she rammed into his back angrily – he didn't budge but he heard her loud and clear.

"Victor! Don't worry about me!" She yelled as a bullet clipped her right leg near the knee. She swore and heard her left glock click empty. Her right one soon followed suite.

Creed had jumped on the nearest attacker and had ripped his throat out with his teeth when he picked up on the smell of burning flesh. He ripped open the stomach of a second one, this time a woman and turned his head to keep track of Emma. The smell was coming from her direction and he saw why before being engaged elsewhere with a bullet to the spine.

Emma's eyes were tearing up from pain. She always wore thick palmed gloves when she had her guns handy for this particular reason. Even out of bullets, her guns were still weapons. She had spun them around and gripped them by their nozzles, the heat from the shooting burned pretty bad. To counteract the pain she smashed the butt of one into the nose of a woman who had seemingly jumped out of no where bearing a taser of some sort, breaking it hard along with a few facial bones, letting the blood flow freely.

A second attacker, this time male came from her right and she swung out and felt the crack resonate through her arm are she slammed the glock into his temple and followed it with a roundhouse kick to the throat, using his momentum to do most of the damage. She heard him choke and watched him fall but he would cause her trouble later if she didn't do something now. Before Emma had a chance however, his body was dragged from behind her and she watched as her husband tore into the soft flesh of his abdomen, eliciting a gurgled scream from the man.

She looked past Victor to find a neat trail of dead, she counted seven to her three – one of which was still alive but not conscious. Creed stepped around her and remedied that quickly by stepping on the neck of the survivor until it cracked.

"You ain't too shabby, babe." Creed chuckled and tried to dig out a bullet from under his clavicle. Holstering her guns and wishing her adrenaline would dissipate, she lifted up the back of his hole riddled shirt with shaking hands. He batted her away. "Don't worry about me, worry about yerself." Victor dipped his forefinger into a trail of blood seeping down her face and showed it to her.

The streets were clear except for firefighters a bit further down who has no time to take notice of them as they tried to save the building from coming down. Emma twined her figures around his carefully. The burns on her hands were healing but slowly. She would have to wear gloves for a while before they were like new again. The bruising and bullet wounds would prove more difficult to hide. Victor stared down at her, giving up on the bullet just then.

"Take me home please." She whispered quietly to him.


End file.
